Work Text:
There was a part of him whom regretted what he had done,
Maybe in another timeline it could’ve gone different.
Maybe if he came sooner? Even a day earlier, could he have stopped his son? Was he too far gone?
Would Wilbur had even listened to his pleas, or maybe it would’ve gone in one ear — and out the other.
The father had remembered that day in detail, the worrisome thoughts as he hastily flew to Dreams server. The cup of tea he had beforehand…
the heavy smell of smoke and ash that dusted the room, each tear and detail of his own sons bloodstained jacket.
…
The thoughts became too much.
He went to Wilbur’s grave again.
… Third time this week.
…
He remembered how Tommy’s eyes dug into the back of his skull, the young boy far too saddened to even approach the grieving man ; actually, tommy ended up walking the other way.
Philza took in a deep breath as he glanced down at his sons grave, his eyebrows raising as he tried to mummer an apology.
Spit it out, come on.
Spill.
Spill.
Spill.
Come on, say it.
FUCKING SAY I-
“I’m so sorry.”
He finally stopped his head from screaming at him.
He broke down, and the world seemed to break down with him — heavy rain beginning to downpour.